I’ve spent the last two weeks quietly stowing belongings in our minivan, telling my husband that it was for Goodwill. On Christmas, at his parent’s party, my son and I quietly snuck out. We left my phone and a letter. A letter saying we were done. Done with him saying my son’s celiac disease is “bullshit” and making him sick by putting gluten in his food. Sick of him shaming my son for his Cerebral Palsy, saying he wished he had a “real son”. I’m f***Ing finished with him forcing me to have sex with him basically every day, grabbing my neck, swinging at me out of anger, I’m tired of the verbal abuse, I’m tired of the gaslighting, the manipulation, tired of my in-laws who wear rose-colored glasses about their son.
We’re done. We drove about 600 miles already.
We’re going from California to New York, and I’m hoping to use my laptop to score another job by the time we get there.
We feel excited, hopeful, scared, nervous, optimistic.
We’re ready for this.